The Witch's Last Wish
by ForeverYoung362
Summary: When Mikayla's mother's magic no longer keeps her safe, Mik is taken to Camp Half-Blood, where she learns of a prophecy that will forever change the lives of gods and demigods alike and everything they think they know about magic. But that's not all she finds. Why does she have to be attracted to a moody, rude, secretive son of Hades too? Life just couldn't get any worse.


Chapter 1 – Annabeth

Personally, I think what hell really is, is sitting in Mr Walter's history class with a clear view of the courts right outside the window I sat next to. I stared longingly at the eighth graders playing three games of basketball across the bitumen, cringing at their terrible plays and wishing I could be out there coaching them instead of in here listening to this old bat go on about princes and politics from a hundred years ago.

Honestly I didn't see the point in history. Sure, it happened, but it happened ages ago and things were totally different now. Who cares which of Henry VIII's wives were beheaded? Who cares about the ten thousand gods of the Romans? Hello, it's the twenty-first century. More important things existed nowadays. Such as basketball. When and why the American Civil War happened was none of my concern, and certainly nothing I was interested in.

"Oi!" my best friend Annabeth, who sat next to me, elbowed me and hissed in my ear. "He keeps looking at you. Quit staring out the window."

"Oh, great," I muttered. "Ugly hawk-eyed prick."

"Mikayla! Annabeth!"

I groaned internally.

"Since your conversation is clearly more important than my lesson, how about you share it with the class? Hmm?"

"Sorry, sir," Annabeth chirped. "I was just asking her what it said on the board after 'nefarious'. I couldn't quite read your writing, sorry."

I snorted. I couldn't help it. Typical Annabeth, teacher's pet, top of every class, _way_ too smart for her own good. Usually she could get away with anything by doing her goody-two-shoes voice. In that way we were polar opposites. I hated all my teachers, except the ones we had for gym, and seeing as I already had a scholarship for basketball at an elite sporting school for next year, I wasn't concerned with good grades or impressing my teachers. My mum understands. She dropped out of high school to pursue a vaguely successful music career but, despite her lovely voice, found work as a bartender instead and got knocked up by my deadbeat father. I arrived, then he left her, and she never left her job and pursued music again. I think that had something to do with my father. Besides, my mother and I share the same horrible temper. We both know better than to tell each other what to do. Compromise is our specialty.

"Mikayla," Mr Walter frowned. "Care to share with the class what is so funny?"

"Oh, it's nothing, sir. It's just, your writing is quite terrible. What _does_ it say after that big 'n' word? I thought neat handwriting was a compulsory component for becoming a teacher."

Several kids in the class snickered. Despite herself, Annabeth was one of them.

Mr Walter's oversized face grew hot. He pointed at me, wagging his finger.

"You, girl," he fumed, "are quite possibly the most difficult student I have ever had to encounter in my career. Just because you have no desire to get an education does _not_ give you the right to disrupt others' learning!"

"Excuse me, sir, but they're really not going to learn anything if you don't do something about your handwriting."

I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "Out!"

I grinned as I stood up and began what Mr Walter called the Walk of Shame to the classroom door. I personally thought of it as more of a Walk of Fame. Almost every incident that led to my being kicked out of class was merely because of my hilarious jokes that used the teachers as punchlines. And, hey, free ticket out of class. Win-win for all.

As I sat on the concrete outside I pulled out my phone. It was a crappy old thing, but it did the job and I loved it dearly.

I had three messages. One from Annabeth from this morning – _"Where are you? Class started ten minutes ago"_ (9:09AM); one from Mum half an hour ago – _"Another email from your school. After-school detention for calling your Maths teacher a cockroach. Really?"_ (2:31PM) and one from Tom, only three minutes ago. I felt a shy blush creeping up my neck and I couldn't help the small smile that spread across my face. _"Sorry I wasn't at school today hottie. Come over tonight and I'll make it up to you? ;) xx"_ (2:49PM)

Tom was the year ahead of me. He was bloody gorgeous, a surfer, and, even better, he was Lindsey Carper's ex. Man, I hated that girl. It just made me feel even smugger every time I loudly talked about him when I knew she was around and when Tom and I hugged when she walked past. It fuelled my inner bitch and made me feel good about myself. Lindsey used to be my best friend, had been for years, until I saw the Facebook group chat she was in that had been made purely for bitching about me and making fun of me. Annabeth came to the school not long after that, and she made a much better best friend.

Annabeth thinks Tom is no good for me. She persistently argues that he only ever really hits me up when he wants a quick fix. She says he's rude and obnoxious and not worth my time. I disagree – Tom is perfectly fine with the fact that I'm not ready to go all the way, and we get ice cream all the time. Ice cream dates are _not_ booty calls.

I texted back, ignoring the ones from Annabeth and my mum. I'd showed up to class eventually, and surely if Mum saw Mr Cunningham in person she'd agree on my description of him.

" _Can't come over tonight sorry, Annabeth's making me complete my English essay. Literally coming over to chaperone. Friday? Ice cream? Xx"_ (2:52PM)

He texted back within moments. _"Sure babe. Ice cream Friday and you can come over then. See you at school tomorrow xx"_ (2:53PM)

I replied immediately. _"Sounds like a plan xx"_ (2:53PM)

I didn't get a reply after that.

After a few minutes I began to sweat in the sweltering heat. A quick match of indoor basketball, followed by a cool shower and a glass of ice-cold watermelon juice…sounded like heaven.

Unfortunately, that dream was simply not to be.

The bell rang bang on 3 o'clock, just as it did every day. I watched the class file out from the ground until Annabeth came out, balancing my books on top of her own.

"He really bitched you out those last few minutes," Annabeth said as she handed over my books. "He really hates you."

I laughed. "Oh, the feeling is mutual."

"I swear, you're going to get kicked out soon. What are you going to do then?"

"Well, doesn't really matter, does it?" I grinned. "MIKA scholarship, remember? Then I'll really be living the dream."

Annabeth nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

We arrived at our lockers. I shoved my English file and textbook into my bag before swinging it over my shoulder and slamming the door shut.

"Still coming over tonight?" I asked. "I hope not, because I'd really like to botch that essay."

"Not a chance," Annabeth smiled. "Of course I'm still coming over."

I lived only a short walk from the school. The ice cream parlour Tom and I went to was on the way. It was usually an easy walk, but in the sweltering heat it was disastrous. Annabeth and I were sweating buckets by the time we finally arrived at the cute little cottage my mother and I shared on Fleckel Street. I'd lived here my entire life; it wasn't that big, and only one bathroom, but it more than made up for it with the backyard. We had a big pool, sun chairs, a large garden that Mum religiously tended to and a slab of bitumen half the size of a court with a basketball ring set up. Mum had sacrificed a fair amount of her precious garden to put that bitumen in; it had been my twelfth birthday present.

With the small little cottage we had, I wasn't quite sure how we could afford so much backyard stuff (maintaining a pool was expensive) with Mum only working as a bartender, but we always seemed to have more than enough. I still swear it comes from my dad, but my mum refused to say – she refused to even tell me who he was. To this day all I know about him was that he was blonde and blue-eyed (like me – my mum is dark-haired and dark-eyed). I don't even carry his last name. I have my mother's – Hensley. I don't even know his name.

I've kind of given up asking. I can see how much it hurts her to talk about him, and I don't press it. Despite butting heads a lot my mum is my best friend. I could never, ever intentionally hurt her.

The air conditioner hit me like a freight truck as soon as I opened the quaint wooden door with the Hindu carving inscribed on both sides. Annabeth and I both sighed in relief as we stepped inside and shut the door behind us. I yearned to strip off my clothes and take a dip in the pool, but I knew that Annabeth would be having none of it. She really was a nerd, that one. But she loved basketball, and was pretty good at it too, so it was easy to look past the smartness.

"Hey Mum," I called out. "Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, honey," she called back. "Is Annabeth here? I've got a few glasses of watermelon juice here for you both."

"Hi, Mrs Hensley!" Annabeth called. We dumped our school bags and walked down the short hallway to the kitchen where, true to her word, Mum had two glasses of fresh watermelon juice waiting for us.

"Mum, you're a legend." I crossed the kitchen in two steps and had drained my glass before Annabeth had even started hers. "Ahh. That's good."

Annabeth was more ladylike, sipping hers and smiling appreciatively. "This is really good."

"My favourite drink." I beamed.

"Will you girls be wanting to go in the pool this afternoon?" Mum smiled. "Because I'm having a guy come to clean it in half an hour. So I'd suggest going now or waiting until he's gone."

"No pool for us today, Mrs Hensley." Annabeth linked her arm through mine. "Mik has an English essay to write."

I groaned. "You are _such_ a spoilsport, Annabeth."

Mum laughed. "Not even I can get her to do her homework, Annabeth. I don't quite know how you do it."

"Neither do I," I grumbled.

Annabeth smiled and we walked to my room.

"Okay," I said. "Essay. Right. Um. 'Mayella Ewell is as much a victim as Tom Robinson'. What? No, she's not. She's the one that killed him, right?"

"Kind of." Annabeth smiled wryly. "She falsely accused a black man of raping her (a white woman) in a time when racism was rampant in America."

"So…"

"Did you even read the book?"

"I watched the movie."

Annabeth sighed. "Honestly, Mik, how do you expect to pull yourself up to a C if you don't even read the assigned text?"

"That's what I have you for."

A flicker of irritation passed across Annabeth's face.

"Fine," she said. "First step. Do you agree or disagree with the statement?"

"Disagree. She got him killed."

"That's what you might think on the surface," Annabeth said, "but if you'd read the book, you'd know that Mayella's father abused her. Physically, sexually, emotionally. Her father forced her to lie. She didn't really have a lot of choice. Not if she wanted her own father to kill her."

"I didn't read the book though…"

"Fine. You disagree. Write down three reasons why."

Nothing came to mind. I thought hard, trying to remember something, anything about Mayella Ewell from the movie. I couldn't even remember what she looked like.

"Well, maybe," I said, "she's not a victim because, uh…when she could have spoken up to do the right thing she didn't. She was cowardly and only looking out for herself."

"Uh…right. Put that one down."

It continued like this for several hours. Agonisingly slowly, we finished my essay, and I wrote every single word of it. I was so, so proud of myself.

"Done!" I grinned. "Now –" my voice died in my throat. Annabeth was holding up a hand, a pensive look on her face. She cocked her head to the side.

"What –"

"Shh!"

I fell silent. I strained my ears, trying to listen for what she might be hearing, but I got nothing. It was silent. Dead silent.

Where was my mum?

"It's time," she muttered. "We have to now." She stood up and walked over to the window, peering out. "Bloody hell, Hedge. Where are you?"

"DIE, SNAKE-MAN! DIE!"

An almighty crash sounded from downstairs. Annabeth grabbed my hand and dragged me down.

"What the hell is going on?!" I shouted.

"A monster's found you! We must go! Now! Hedge will distract it. We have to get to camp!"

"Monster? Camp? What? Hedge? My mother? Where is my mother?!"

"Your mother will be fine. She knows how to defend herself."

We reached the landing. What I saw changed my life forever.

My favourite teacher – Hedge, our gym teacher – was in my living room, wielding an oversized baseball bat, dancing around and whacking a…a snake?

A huge, scaly snake with two large horns protruding from its head was fighting my gym teacher in my living room.

Okay.

This couldn't get any weirder.

Spoke too soon.

My mother appeared from the bathroom door. She was yelling some kind of chant in a different language, waving her arms around.

"Mum!" I screamed.

She ignored me. I felt Annabeth's tug on my hand.

"We have to go – before it notices us –"

As if on cue, Hedge whacked the serpent's head so hard it spun, and when it recovered it was looking straight at us. It hissed fiercely and slithered up the wall, making its way towards us. It kept near the roof, so that no matter how hard Hedge tried, he couldn't reach it.

I screamed.

"Come _on,_ let's _go!_ "

Annabeth and I ran to the door. There was no need to open it; it was already smashed off its hinges, a hole punching right through the delicate Hindu carvings.

"I'll explain everything once we're away from here. We need to get you to camp, Hedge will meet us there. He and your mum will hold it off."

"You better explain everything!" I shouted. "And tell me what the bloody hell is going on!"

Annabeth dragged me to where my mum's silver Holden Cruze sat in the driveway. She opened the door (why was it unlocked?) and jumped in the driver's seat. I hurried around to the passenger's.

Before I'd even fully shut the door, she was backing out. We heard another crash from inside. She swung around onto the street, not even looking for oncoming traffic. And she sped off.

"Do you even have a license?" I shrieked. "We're not even old enough to be on our L's yet!"

"I'm seventeen, Mikayla," Annabeth said tiredly. "And there's a lot of explaining that needs to be done."

"Yes, there bloody is."

"I'll start with the big one," Annabeth said. "I know who your father is."

My head shot around so quick I almost got whiplash. "What did you just say?"

"Your father," Annabeth said, "is Apollo. The god of music, healing and prophecy. The Sun. Your mother is a mortal. That makes you a demigod. Half-human, half-god."

I stared at her. I stared at her for a long time, until a giggle bubbled past my lips, which soon turned into a raucous laughing fit.

"Right, and you're the daughter of Zeus."

"Athena, actually."

Her matter-of-fact tone just made me laugh all the harder.

"Right. Sure. What's next?"

"Hedge and I are the extraction team sent from Camp Half-Blood to bring you back to camp. Hedge found you not that long ago, and since you're _way_ past the normal age that monsters start tracking demigods…how you're not dead, I don't know…"

"Um. Okay."

"I only actually met you today," Annabeth continued. "All that stuff with Lindsey, Tom, Hedge being your gym teacher and me being at school. All a trick of the Mist. The Mist is magic controlled by Hecate that changes people's perspectives on what they see. It even affects memories. So…yeah. Nice to meet you."

"Right. Yeah. Okay. Next?"

"That's about it for the important stuff. Chiron can explain the rest when we get to camp."

"Right," I giggled. "Camp."

I turned to look out the window. My head was spinning fuzzily, not really taking anything that Annabeth said seriously. It was all a prank. A dream, maybe. I'd wake up soon.

 _Wake up._


End file.
